


All the Queen’s Ravens

by veritashopian



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, Character Death, Gen, He’s okay but he died, Old Elfington, Pre-Canon, bard!kravitz, character becomes death, how Kravitz became a reaper, how Kravitz died, i think this will suffice, i wanted a reason for them to burn it down, kravitz is just really good with birds I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritashopian/pseuds/veritashopian
Summary: Kravitz is a very young elf the first time he breaks the Raven Rule.When he realizes that he’s breaking the rule over and over again by singing to them, he can’t bring himself to mind.The last time Kravitz breaks the Raven Rule, he is a young man with no clue what he’s about to do.





	All the Queen’s Ravens

There’s a cave outside Old Elfington, where only the ravens dare to live. The birds flock to the trees each day and return to the rocks each night, and the Elders say that to go there is to invite death.

“The Raven Queen is benevolent and wise,” they warn. “But She is also the goddess of avarice. No living thing can escape Her domain, so do not approach Her before you must. Stay away from Her court.”

Kravitz is a very young elf the first time he breaks the Raven Rule.

Inspired by a troupe of musicians traveling through Old Elfington, he decides he wants to play bard. He plays at the edge of the forest while his mother washes their clothes in the stream, building himself a violin out of bark, grass, and twigs. He arranges fallen fruit from the trees in a semicircle to serve as his audience. He chooses a long reed from the creek for his bow and stands proudly in the afternoon sun.

Kravitz bows at the waist like he saw the musicians do. “My name is Kravitz, and I am a bard!” He basks in his imaginary applause and then he starts to sing, letting his mouth make the noises for his toy instrument. After an appropriate introduction, he begins his song.

_“Upon the Eve of Candlenights_

_The frosty snow will fall_

_Adventurers from far and near_

_Will hear a frantic call_

_The Emissary of the Queen_

_With hands so dark and cold_

_Will follow them across the land_

_And freeze their wayward souls_

_‘O come now home,’ Death will proclaim_

_‘Your time is at an end.’_

_And on that Eve of Candlenights_

_They will depart as friends”_

Kravitz sings the old phrases a few times over, not knowing of any verses that follow. His mother always sings this when autumn ends, a reminder that if he doesn’t come home when she calls, he could get lost in the snow.

But the air is still warm with the fading light of the summer sun, and Kravitz dances and sings and plays until his shadow stretches as tall and mysterious as the trees it points toward. When he grows up enough, he’ll have his meeting with the Elders and when they discuss his goals for the future, he will tell them he wants to be a bard. He is sure of it now; there is nothing else in the world that could bring him joy such as this.

A shadow passes over his and Kravitz jumps backwards, dropping his makeshift bow. The intruder is a raven, the soft downy feathers of youth still clinging to its neck. The raven explores Kravitz’s stage, pecking at the fruit with an indifferent air. It hops over to the bow-reed and examines it before looking straight at Kravitz.

Kravitz slowly lowers himself to the ground, heart pounding. This is his first encounter with one of the Queen’s court, but he knows how he is expected to behave. _Move slowly. Be respectful. Stay silent._ He crosses his legs under him and waits.

The bird bends its neck and picks up the reed in its beak. It flaps its wings and takes a quick flight over to where Kravitz sits, dropping the reed in front of him. It caws plaintively.

Kravitz reaches his hand out and carefully grasps the reed, biting his lip. He knows he should stay silent, but…

“Do you want me to play again?”

The raven nudges its beak against his hand and then hops back to stand among the fruit.

Well, alright then. Kravitz stands. He raises his bow, opens his mouth, and-

“Kra-vitz!” He jumps again as his mother’s voice rings out across the glen. She’s still a good distance away, and she doesn’t sound alarmed. She hasn’t seen him breaking the rules.

Kravitz drops his things, bows to the raven, and runs away. He tells no one about what he saw or did, but he remembers. He remembers and he thinks on it for years to come.

Even though he stays away from the ravens whenever he can, they don’t hold the same reservations. When he sings in the house, they fly by his window. When he whistles in the forest, they cross his path in playful streaks of black. When he realizes that he’s breaking the rule over and over again by singing to them, he can’t bring himself to mind.

When he meets with the Elders, he doesn’t hesitate before telling them he wants to be a bard.

The last time Kravitz breaks the Raven Rule, he is a young man with no clue what he’s about to do.  He has finally saved up enough money to buy himself a real, professionally commissioned instrument. It’s a violin made of dark, sweet-smelling wood and when he holds it in his hands for the first time he cries silently. He’s waited so long, and now this beautiful instrument is his. He can finally begin to work toward his dream.

His baby sister cries in the night and he can’t practice for fear of waking her, so his mother sends him out of the house with his violin in hand. She tells him to go to the tavern and earn some coin. He walks in the moonlight toward the forest.

No one lingers in the streets of Old Elfington this late at night. The midnighters are having their drinks and the families are safe in their homes. No one is there to watch as Kravitz wanders deeper and deeper into the trees.

He knows he’s getting too close. After all these years, this is the only rule involving the court that he hasn’t dared to break. He knows the rules and he knows he could get in trouble, but there’s something he has to see for himself. And as the lush grass under his feet give way to bare rock, he does.

The cave would be invisible to human eyes even in the light of a waxing moon, but Kravitz marvels at the sight. Every rock, every boulder is concealed by shining black feathers as the Queen’s ravens rest. They form a reflective halo around the open mouth of the cave, dark against dark and yet so bright. Their eyes open simultaneously as he steps from the trees, but not one stirs.

He knows these birds, as they have known him all his life. But this is their domain, and Kravitz is unsure of his welcome here.

Kravitz bows to his audience and puts his violin to his chin. “My name is Kravitz,” he says. “And I want to be a bard.”

No response comes, and he isn’t struck down where he stands. So far, so good.

Kravitz slowly draws his bow over the strings, closing his eyes. He plays a low, drawn out note and then pauses, waiting.

Still nothing. Okay, then. He taps off the beat with his foot and then launches into a song.

The melody he plays is sharp and warbling, nothing like the masters he’s trying so hard to emulate but decent enough. Kravitz doesn’t think he wants to play this way for Her birds; he wanted something sweet and light to soothe the creatures, not to startle them. He frowns and adjusts his grip but the music does not mellow. In fact, it only grows harsher, not unlike the calls of the birds around him.

Kravitz opens his eyes to see that it _is_ the call of the birds around him. One by one, they open their beaks and caw at him in time to his music until the entire unkindness is calling out with one voice. He keeps playing as best as he can while wonder fills his body. The music of the ravens is strange and magical, but it speaks to him like nothing he’s ever felt before. His bows flies across the strings as he plays and the choir of ravens follows along, most standing on their feet now and flapping their wings.

They’re singing to his music. The Queen’s ravens are singing to _Kravitz’s_ music.

It’s the most beautiful and haunting song he’s ever heard, let alone played, and when his fingers run out of notes to pull from his instrument he feels a loss his still-young heart has never before known. As the last echoes of his final phrase fade into the night, the ravens fall silent and Kravitz is standing alone in the light of early dawn.

 _Dawn_. The sun is rising already? Kravitz lowers his shaking arms and finally feels the ache in his muscles and the blisters on his fingers. He thinks he only played for a half hour- maybe one full one at the most. How did this happen?

One of the largest ravens hops down from its roost, startling Kravitz. It jump-flies toward him and Kravitz stays perfectly still as it lights on his shoulder. He prays to the Raven Queen, begging forgiveness for any trespasses on his part as the bird’s long beak brushes just behind his pointed ear.

A soft nickering noise tickles the skin of his neck and Kravitz gasps out a frightened laugh at the strange approximation of a kiss the bird presses to his temple. It’s approval, admiration; _kinship._

“It was my honor,” Kravitz murmurs. “If it pleases Her Majesty, I would gladly entertain Her court again if ever I am wanted.”

That makes many of the ravens cry out and flap their wings. The one on his shoulder clicks its strange tongue once again and flies back to its fellows. Kravitz bows once again and immediately feels the rush of a thousand wings as the unkindness takes off for their morning flight. When he straightens he is completely alone. Only then does he allow himself to sink to his knees, exhausted.

He knows that he has had an experience that few, if any, would relate to. There’s a reason his people are afraid of the ravens, and even as young as he is he knows how lucky he is to be alive after being taken for the entire night. How lucky he is to have the option of returning to his family.

After catching his breath, Kravitz forces himself back to his feet. His family- they’ll be looking for him soon. He brushes off the dusty knees of his trousers and staggers toward town.

He returns to an Old Elfington paralyzed by fear. The morning chores have not even begun, as every citizen is gathered in the square. They are looking to the center where the three Elders stand on a dais. They’re shouting and gesturing, trying to calm the frantic crowd, but from the edge of the square Kravitz can’t hear what they’re saying.

“Kravitz!” Footsteps sound behind him and his mother throws her arm around him and squeezes him tightly to her chest. His sister cries and kicks in her arms. They’re both still dressed in their nightclothes, like the rest of the elves in the square. “Thank the gods you’re safe. Where were you?”

He hangs limply in her grasp, too weak and tired to protest as they fall to their knees. “I’m okay, mother. I was just playing in the forest.”

“For the entire night! Didn’t you hear the Cacophony, child?” She draws back and runs her free hand over his face and shoulder, checking him for injuries. “That instrument of yours- I can’t imagine how you drowned out that awful noise, but-“

She freezes, one hand tangled in his hair. “Kravitz, what is this?”

Kravitz slaps a hand to his head and feels something soft tucked behind his ear. He pulls out a single black feather and stares at it.

Presently, he becomes aware that no one is shouting anymore. Starting with the people near him and spreading all the way to the dais, the town of Old Elfington has stopped what they were doing to stare at Kravitz in horror.

“Make way!” The Elders rush through the crowd. They part easily, pulling his mother and sister with them and then Kravitz is kneeling alone before the Elders.

“Kravitz!” His mother reaches out but the crowd forms a barrier between them.

“Take her back to her home,” one of the Elders says, and someone does. Kravitz can’t watch her go. He’s pinned under the weight of a thousand eyes, and somehow this is worse than the fear he felt when he gave himself up for the court’s judgement. The Elders are as intimidating as he remembers, two males and one female with long hair braided to their waists and dark green robes that mark their station.

“Young Kravitz the Bard,” the High Elder says, her voice like the strike of flint on steel. “We understand you were not in your home this night.”

“No, Elder.”

“Where were you?”

“The forest, Elder.”

The crowd murmurs, nearing another craze until all three Elders raise their hands. Silence falls once again.

One of the male Elders steps forward. “What were you doing in the forest?”

Kravitz breathes with difficulty. “Practicing, Elder. My sister needs to sleep, and I was sent from the house so I wouldn’t wake her.”

“And did you visit the Queen’s domain?”

Shaking, Kravitz nods. The crowd erupts, and this time the Elders cannot calm them. They rush about in chaos, some hugging their loved ones close while others simply wail.

“Death!” Someone cries out. “The boy invites death!”

Kravitz feels the bodies around him pressing closer, surrounding him and ready to crush him if he stays there. “Please,” he tries. “You’re wrong about the court. They will not harm us!”

Luckily, or perhaps not, it is at that time that the Queen’s court flies overhead. The unkindness seems larger than ever before, large enough to blot out the light of the rising sun. As one, they descend upon the square and cover the entire dais where the Elders once stood.

The Elders go ashen. The other elves throw themselves to the ground in fear, but Kravitz feels awash with relief. He stands and holds out his arm, gesturing to the birds. “Old Elfington, hear me! The Raven Queen is not the greedy murderess you take her for, and I am the proof of that. I have sung for her court my whole life, and this very night I played for them until I could play no longer. They took me into their fold and I would have stayed with them willingly, but they released me and sent me back to you with their blessing.”

Kravitz tucks the feather back into his hair and raises his violin to his chin, determined to show them what he means. When they hear the ravens’ song they will understand. They have to.

“My name is Kravitz,” he shouts. “And I am a bard!” He draws his bow across the strings and only hears the beginnings of a strain before the world goes silent.

Kravitz reels, holding one head to his head as he falls. Starbursts flare behind his eyelids and the sound rushes back to him with a deafening roar. He looks up, squinting through the tears that spring to his eyes.

The High Elder stands over him, her hand still raised high from the force of her blow. Her long nails bear traces of the blood Kravitz feels oozing from his ear, and her face is a storm of fury. They lock eyes and time seems to slow to a crawl. Even above the screams, he can hear her voice clearly.

“You violated our sacred laws,” she intones. “You created the Cacophony with the Raven Queen’s dark magic and brought death to your people. We will not stand for this.” With that, she and the other Elders turn and leave Kravitz to the mercy of the villagers.

Hands grab him, fierce and unrelenting. They rip his violin from his hands and he screams for help, begs for them to stop, but no one will hear him now. No elf in this village holds any sympathy for the herald of Death.

He sees them destroy his violin first as they drag him away into the trees, splinters and strings flying in all directions under the crushing pressure on an ax. They burn his bow next, the rosined horse hair curling into black smoke, and Kravitz foolishly thinks that this, the loss of his life’s work, is the worst of his punishment.

 _Death._ The word clangs against his burning ears as he is pushed to the ground on his hands and knees, his forehead pressed against a broad tree trunk. The hands on his body hold him down and he only thinks to struggle when he sees the shadow of the ax bearing down on him.

“Mercy!” he screams in sheer terror, and as it rips from his throat he hears a terrible, otherworldly  screech.

Darkness.

All is darkness, and all is silence, but Kravitz is not afraid. The dark shrouds no hidden enemy, and the silence is not an absence of life. They swaddle him tightly and he lets them, welcomes the security of night. He feels that the next breath will be his last, and he sends it forth from his lips willingly. His heart beats once, twice more, and falls still.

And then, light.

He is kneeling again, not on stone or earth but on polished marble. Murmurs stir the cold air around him, but Kravitz doesn’t look to see where they’re coming from. He only looks up, directly in front of him to meet the glowing red eyes of a dark figure sitting on a throne.

The Raven Queen is resplendent- there is no other word Kravitz knows that even comes close to describing Her. She is shrouded in mist and darkness, and yet Kravitz feels at ease the moment he sees Her face.

“ _My child,”_ She whispers. _“Your fate saddens my court. That was not the end we intended for our favored one.”_

Kravitz hesitates, but She nods for him to speak so he does, voice trembling. “My Queen, I- I am sorry. I couldn’t make them listen.” He lowers his head, ashamed. “I couldn’t serve you well enough. I deserve the fate I earned.”

_“In what way did you wish to serve me, dear one?”_

Tears prick at Kravitz’s eyes once again and he prostrates himself lower still, pressing his forehead to the floor. If blood still flowed in his veins, his face would be hot with shame. “I was presumptuous enough to desire a place with Your court, my Queen. Your ravens seemed to enjoy my music, so I wished to be Your bard. But I failed You.”

The murmurs grow in volume around him and Kravitz jerks as hands settle on his back and shoulders- _no, not again, please, mercy!-_ but these hands are gentle, and they soothe instead of grasping. Something about them is familiar, and that is enough to make Kravitz raise his head.

Dozens of black robed figures surround him now, red eyes gazing out under shadowy hoods. They speak in strange clicks and trills that Kravitz knows deep in his soul, even if he doesn’t understand their meaning. Their cloaks are lined with soft, black feathers.

_“You have never failed us, precious child. You were kind to my emissaries in your first life and beloved by them as well, and you may stand by them in the next life if that is what you desire. Do you accept my charges?”_

Kravitz lets the figures pull him upright, uses the strength and comfort and _warmth_ of their touch to steady himself. He thinks of the dreams and desires he had in life, and how they already seem less significant in death. He remembers the presence around him, always there and always watching, waiting.

He feels the weight of gratitude he already has for the Raven Queen, for sparing him from the experience of a cruel and unjust death. _Mercy._

“I do,” he says, and immediately he feels a transformation come over him. A cold chill runs down his back and his skin falls away from him, leaving only bone. His simple clothes morph into a rich black cloak and suit, and a scythe appears in his right hand.

The murmurs around him change also, stabilizing into words he can understand.

“I hoped he would.”

“I _knew_ he would, he was always so kind-“

“ _I_ saw him first, if you remember-!”

“Welcome home, brother,” one tells him with kind voice, and Kravitz thinks, _oh_.

The Raven Queen smiles. _“Although your music is precious to us, you are no mere bard. Welcome, most treasured emissary, conductor of souls, to my court.”_

The court raises a cry of jubilation, and Kravitz swears it could be heard across all reality. He lifts his voice to the heavens and joins in.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been pretty down lately after binging the entire Balance arc in less than a month. This really helped me get some of my motivation back, so I figured I’d share it. I’ve been trying to get back to my old writing style, and I think this is a step in the right direction. Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Note: I did write the song Kravitz sings myself, but it is indeed about the Crystal Kingdom.


End file.
